Monday, January 31, 2011

A Bug Dies (sort of)

After a short honeymoon that included a trip to Mammoth Cave and massive amounts of cherry cheesecake, I put Danny on a bus and he headed to Fort Knox and Army Basic Training.  I returned home and went to work carhopping  at KN Root Beer.
During this time I undertook my first act as a wife.  An act that still causes contention when it is mentioned.  Even today. Probably even tomorrow.

When we married, Danny owned a VERY old white, 1965, Volkswagen Beetle.  It could only be described as “rustic” if the term rustic means completely full of rust. For reasons that were not ever completely clear to me,  the passenger side had a hole so large that the road could be seen clearly when moving down the highway (or up the highway, depending).  On one snowy Sunday, we undertook a trip in which snow and ice from the roadway was kicked up through this gaping hole onto my very attractive dress shoes.  Danny, always a gentlemen, had a blanket in the trunk and offered it to wrap my feet in to keep them dry.  Just reread that last part again.  While I am INSIDE a car, I need a blanket to keep my feet DRY. 
Now, I ask you, what’s a wife to do?  I knew we were facing a move to New Mexico when Danny’s Basic Training was completed.  That rusty, old VW would not make it. We needed traveling money.   So did what any right thinking person would do. I sold it.

 Yes, that’s right, I sold it. I admit it.

You would have thought I cut off Danny's right arm.  Or, at the very least, his left one.

        Gone but not forgotten. No matter how hard I try.  He just will not let me.


  1. I thought everyone knew to clean out a vehicle before selling it. Along with the car went all my tools, an Army blanket, and a bag of golf balls.

  2. Careful, Pam. This Anonymous character looks angry.

  3. Don't worry, Amy. I can handle "Anonymous".